Timeless Nightmares
by WaffleGoddess
Summary: Returns! Yay! Far better than it was before. Ehem...a novelization. Just read it... x.x
1. Chapter 1

_A long long time ago it was, before people began to dwell in the sky  
A terrible war was raged between us humans and the wicked god.  
After the horrendous battle, our ancestors entombed the wicked god,  
And left the polluted and barren earth, to find a future in the sky._

**Timeless Nightmares**

Baten Kaitos is copyright to Namco yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda yadda. Done.

Moo. It's Timeless Nightmares. 'Tis the improved edition. Squee! Let's pray the paragraphs don't fuse together this time...

Prologue: Our Nightmare Begins

_**"There is no pain, you are simply receding..." **_

_So it was, that the wicked god Malpercio lay to rest, banished to another dimension, but not destroyed. Though its body ceased to be, its soul lived on in the dark void, echoing in the halls of it's temple the Cor Hydrae, waiting for the day it would be reborn. Five of it's siblings died at the same time it was sealed away. Though immortal, they were not eternal, victims of the ravages of time and the dwindling faith of the people. A race of wizards, their origins unknown, came to the aid of the world, sealing the last remains of the sibling gods in a Magnus. Fused with the might of the gods, the 'End Magnus' were laid to rest beneath five continents. _

The effects of the war and the death of the gods combined, the earth become desolate. Thick clouds of volcanic smoke, laced with poisons and chemicals began to form, threatening life all over. Using their new powers, magic of the End Magnus, the wizards were able to lift the lands of the world up into the skies. Five major islands took their place in the sky, while various other smaller islands took their place scattered around the sky. The wizards hid themselves beneath the poisonous clouds, in order to watch over the barren world. Only one thing remained. The Ocean, pristine and pure was subject to the same devastation as the earth. Not knowing what the future may hold, the wizards joined their forces with the witches of the Ice land Wazn. Together, they sealed the Ocean away, trapping it, until the world was reborn.

The five unique End Magnus allowed five different cultures to develop, the crimes and woes of the past were forgotten and humans took to the skies. Various events came to pass, and the future was set in motion...

"Come on, Fehn! You've done it for me so far? Why not today?"

The jittery teenager looked around nervously, shoving his glasses back onto his nose, staring into the eyes of what was soon his mortal enemy.

"Uh...I don't want to? Everyone doesn't hang out with me ever since I started doing homework for you..."

"So?" the dark haired girl said, aghast. She ran a finger through her raven-black hair, though she didn't really notice. "Nobody hangs out with me, either! You're not going to die of unpopularity."

"You don't understand! Listen, we can still be friends...but I want to find some other friends, too," Fehn said softly. He seemed ready to bolt any minute.

"I have fifty-seven bucks, I'll give you all of it!"

"No, not anymore. I...don't want to."

"Go stuff it," she groaned, rolling her eyes.

"Uhh..."

Seconds later, he was running down the hall. Glaring at where he stood, she flipped off the empty space.

She followed him, down the hall with a groan. Passing under each doorframe, she reached up to touch it. Falling just short of six feet, she managed to tap it slightly before passing on.

"Stupid...some people just deserve a good whack on the head," she muttered quietly to herself, her hands behind her head as she walked along.

"Talking to yourself again, Arista?"

She lazily opened her greyish-blue eyes, looking behind her. Oh yes, the jerky girls. Gossip, gossip. All about who's hot and who's not. Oh my god, did you cut your hair last night? Did you hear what so-and-so did? All crap nobody cared about.

"Why yes, do you care?" she said, glaring at them.

The girls seemed to cackle, pointing at her. "You're such a bore, Arista!" one girl scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Everyone knows you can't do anything on your own."

Clenching fists. Unclench. Ignore them, they might go away...

More of that cackle. Who would care if one of these girls got a good smack to the face? They deserved it.

Eventually, after more harassment, they wandered down the hall, still sneaking looks at Arista.

Arista had no idea what she had learned through the day. She doodled constantly through each of her subjects, until it was lunchtime. And lunchtime it was, as she walked through the halls, glancing at other students still working in their classrooms.

Her mind wandered to the strange dreams she had been having lately. Odd dreams, of old women, demons, wizards, all in unorganized, jumbled chaos. She honestly hoped she wasn't going insane.

She walked down the hall, daydreaming about which one of these beings to draw during lunch.

* * *

Deep in the trenches carved into the floors of the oceans, there are creatures of the deep which live and die without ever seeing the sun. These fabulous creatures cruise the depths like ghostly streamers of mist, lit from within by their own radiance. Although they look delicate, they are marvels of biological design, built to withstand pressures that would crush a man into a bloody pulp in the blink of an eye. Their great strength, however, is also their great weakness. Prisoners of their own bodies, they are locked forever in their dark depths. If they are captured and drawn towards the surface, towards the sun, they simply explode. It is not external pressure that destroys them, it is the absence of pressure.

Arista had been raised in her own dark trench, had lived in her own atmosphere of high pressure. Her father had been an executive of a famous international corporation, away from home for long stretches of time, a caricature type-A overachiever, but he was also an alcoholic. He drove his only child as furiously and unforgivingly as he drove himself.

A report card which did not contain all A's was an unacceptable report card. An A-minus was the subject of a lecture fraught with dire warnings of what life would be like emptying garage cans or working at a fastfood restaurant, and a B resulted in punishment—most commonly confinement to her room for a week. During that week, Arista was only allowed out for school and meals. There was no time off for good behavior. On the other hand, extraordinary achievement warranted no corresponding praise. When Arista showed her father the academic achievement medal which had been awarded to her in front of the entire student body, her father glanced at it, grunted, and went back to his newspaper. She despised school ever since then. After all, if your only father didn't even care about what you did in school, why even go?

On the day Arista turned ten, he placed a wooden kitchen match between two of her toes, lit it, and sang "Happy Birthday to You" while it burned slowly down towards her flesh. He told her that if she tried to shake or kick it loose, he would take her to the orphanage at once. The threat of orphanage was a frequent one when he was pumped with alcohol.

"I ought to, anyway," he told Arista as he lit the match which stuck up between his daughter's toes like a skinny birthday candle. "You're just like my mother. She was too lazy. She was no good at anyhting. Just like you. You're _lazy,_ Ari-ari."

He finished the song and blew out the match before the skin of Arista's second and third toes were more than singed, but Arista never forgot the yellow flame, the curling, blackening stick of wood, and the growing heat as her father hissed "Happy birthday, dear Ari-ari, happy birthday to _yooooooou_" in his droning, off-key drunk's voice.

Arista was eleven when her father died under mysterious circumstances, most likely associated with the corporation for which her father had devoted his life to. She was actually sort of relieved when her father's coffin had finally been lowered into the ground.

Her mother was always in control by her husband. Once he was safely in the ground, she began her life's work in earnest. She was finally able to smother her daughter with affection, finally relieved. She no longer needed to search out her husband's bottles and break them, or slap him and tell him to get a hold of himself, for God's sake, and pressure was relieved from her shoulders. But the pain never quite left Arista.

Ever since then, Arista's behavior was random and bizarre.

Pressure.

Pressure in the trenches.

Arista's schoolwork continued to decline, and she spent most of the time cooped in her room, drawing or on the computer. She was teased by the general school population for her bizarre behavior, and vented her rage in drawings. She was taken to the Psych Ward every day that she was caught with one of her violent drawings of someone getting murdered by some kind of demon, and the narky staff panicked whenever she drew even a spot of blood.

* * *

"Psych Ward...again," groaned Arista, spinning in the padded chair. Her drab earthy clothes seemed to match with the drab interior of the room, preferring a dark brown, short sleeved shirt and grey, loose, canvas-like pants. She finally faced the desk, hands dangling. What would Miss Dingle talk about today? A freaking biography of her life since day one? All she wanted to do was go home.

Miss Dingle, school psychiatrist, walked into the room, a tall, brisk lady in a slate blue dress. As she sat at her desk, she pulled out a folder, in the corner labeled 'H., Arista' She opened it, looking up at Arista. "What are you doing here?" she said, disapproval in her voice.

There was a stony silence as Arista stared at the woman in front of her, obviously bored.

"It's the third time this week," Miss Dingle continued, pulling out a pencil drawing from the folder. Arista glanced at it, before looking back up. "What's this?"

"I drew it at lunch," Arista said, smirking inside. It was a drawing of a demon, chewing up the body of a cartoon Fehn suffering a horrible death.

"It depicts extreme violence," Miss Dingle said, pulling back the drawing. "Have you been under stress lately?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Because I wanted to," Arista said, her voice rising.

Miss Dingle shook her head. "Violence is never necessary. I'm concerned about you. You're so talented, yet you insist upon this negative behavior..."

Arista sat there, staring at the psychiatrist's desk, letting her voice slide around her body. She overheard words about anger management, depression and according to her other appointments, she knew self-esteem was next. Miss Dingle said her self-esteem was low, but on days like these, she said it was "Very low." What did she know that Arista didn't?

"Are you listening to me?"

"Yeeees..."

She didn't want to be here, and this would make her miss the bus home.

She was saying something about trusting your feelings when she just tuned her out completely and fiddled with her hair, her mind wandering. She just wanted to get the whole meeting over with.

Suddenly, the psychiatrist was standing up, gathering her papers. Arista stood up, put on a fake smile and thanked her. "Our talk today talk has really made a difference," she said with almost too much sarcasm in his voice.

Miss Dingle didn't seem to notice, and smiled back. "I'm glad you're improving. I just want to see you happy."

She was still rolling her eyes when she hoisted her backpack onto one shoulder and walked down the empty hall to the high school parking lot. She stepped into the cold winter sunlight and scanned the end of the lot for buses, but there were none in sight.

"Well, damn," she said, before trudging off.

What was with them? It was only a picture. All right, a picture of a person getting brutally killed. But who cared about him? He was just a lying, thieving little...and she wanted to keep that one, too.

She chuckled to herself, an image of the psych nurse murdered that way popping into her mind. She felt tempted to draw it, but they'd _really _freak. School psych's were bad enough, but going to a professional shrink was...

For a moment, all was silent. The smell of woodsmoke filled the air. Walking home was nice this time of year, with browned leaves still scattered on the ground. It was only midwinter where the bus home was necessary.

She paused, looking into the grey skies. "I'll kill them someday."

* * *

The dusty house was silent. Arista dropped her backpack and called out "Mom, I'm home!"

Replied with silence, Arista suddenly hoped her mother wasn't home. Kicking off her shoes, she walked into the kitchen and found a note on the counter, and glanced over it.

'Arista— I have to work late tonight. I bought one of those turkey dinners you like. Love you, Mom."

She opened the freezer and looked at the frozen dinner waiting for him. All of a sudden she wished her mother were home. She closed the door, swiped a bag of cookies, and walked outside.

Arista's room was pathetically miniscule. Every inch of the of the walls were covered with her own drawings. They featured characters holding large guns and swords, monsters fighting humans, and the like. The gory ones were hidden under her drawings, safely kept hidden from her mother, or she'd wind up at a professional shrink more often.

She flipped on her computer, as it slowly began booting up. It was old, but it had a scanner and internet access, and that was good enough for her.

She shoved a cookie in her mouth with one hand, and checked the weather for anything interesting ("Thunderstorm tonight," she noted), then whisked off to her favorite sites. She posted a complaint on a messageboard about one of her best drawings being deleted, and received replies from online friends with loads of sympathy.

It was dark outside by the time she was finished surfing. She left his computer downloading a video and entered the dark kitchen to warm up her TV dinner. She stood at the microwave and watched the plastic-wrapped dish slowly fill with steam, the microwave casting the only light in the kitchen.

She ate her dinner, alone in his dark room, illuminated by the blue glow of his monitor. It was so quiet she could hear the wind beginning to roar in the trees outside. The power could go out, as the neighbors never trimmed the trees, and they always caught power lines in the middle of storms.

She got up, went to the bathroom and removed two pills from a bottle in the medicine cabinet. She had forgotten to take her antidepressants when she got home, and should have taken them before eating. She shrugged and gulped the pills with a can of soda and returned to her room.

The wind was picking up outside, and thunder rattled her window. Somewhere in the neighborhood, someone's windchimes jangled a frantic tune. For a moment lightning lit his room like a floodlight. Unperturbed, she finished her meal and watched the progress bar on the download. 45. Almost halfway there.

The progress bar hadn't moved for several minutes now, she noticed. She leaned forward and looked at the indicator on the bottom of his browser. Contacting Host. Maybe a line blew down somewhere

A crack split the silence, so loud that the house shook. Arista jumped and nearly fell out of her chair, and her computer screen went blank. As thunder rolled away into the distance, she bolted for the front door. It sounded like lightning had struck right outside...

* * *

Thunder rumbled ominously across the sky, while a sudden, chilling rain pelted the earth below, mixing with the soggy dirt and coarse winter grass. The wind was a violentstormof activity, swirling and buffeting all the unfortunates that had chosen to stay outside during the storm, outside and unprotected. The sky above was clouded, blackened in the darkness of night. The stars and moon were all but gone, swallowed entirely by the dark, malicious clouds that now blanketed the sky above the city. They were greedy, swallowing everything that came into their path, blanketing the world below in a coat of darkness.

Lightning raced across the sky, illuminating the ground below for a few brief moments, before whisking away back up into the clouds that sent them, only to dart down to tease the ground again. The pattern continued as if in some malicious jest upon the inhabitants helpless inhabitants, trapped in their pitiful dwellings. The thunder's voice seemed to echo that statement, voice laced with unprecedented malice. It was mocking the people below.

Arista looked down at a downed power line, blue electricity dancing around it. She groaned once again, and prepared to turn back into the house.

_Crrracck!_

Lightning flashed again, followed by an ominous roar. Arista braced herself against the buffeting wind as it slammed into her body with all the might of a deadly tidal wave. Thrown back a few paces, she closed her eyes, and attempted to find a grip in the ground. It was supposedly a thunderstorm. It felt more like a hurricane.

A vision assaulted her then, far more powerful than whatever disaster could beset her. The vision came so fierce and sudden, she cried out, terrified, another crack plummeting down with a spear of lightning.

* * *

To think the things that occurred in the realm of imaginary could be so much more terrible than the things that existed realm of reality. She felt pain, pain all over, but it was nothing compared to what she had seen. The world around him faded. The screaming of the wind lessened, and the chilling drops of water evaporated, until all that was left to her life was that of what the vision willed.

She was in almost completely enveloped in darkness, the ancient smell of wet and stale air assaulting her nose; but even more overwhelming was the smell of death; the smell of rot and blood. Her vision began to come into focus, pupils dilating to take in all of the available light.

Even the dark could not protect her from the vision. Arista saw the blood, the twisted bodies, and most of all, the shadowed faces in all their hellish glory. She had seen this all before, but that did not take away the sting – the sting the pain, fear, and revulsion that she had been left to deal with from the first encounter. Dizzy and nauseous, Arista noticed the million shards of rock littering the ground around her, points as sharp as swords, stained with the blood and flesh of those who had met their unfortunate demise. The bodies were broken and cut, twisted at every hideous and unimaginable angle, and the blood that mingled with the rocky earth had almost a life of its own.

Arista found her eyes unwillingly lingering on the faces of the dead. Their smiles were haunting, deepening the dark ambience that permeated the cave. Arista wanted to close her eyes, reluctant to look upon the faces of the dead, but they would not let her go that easily. Their eyes were staring at her, beckoning her with their magnetic gazes, not releasing her from their gaze even as she closed her eyes.

_Join us!_ they seemed to say. _Join us in this dance of death, and find out who you really are._

Arista flinched, trying to tear herself away from the unpleasant scene.  
She threw herself spirit aside, tearing herself away from the fibers that bound her to this world. Her vision danced, twisting into another world...

It was a place of beginnings where everything was rumored to have begun.

But was it really? Or was it merely disguised to take on a more fortunate light?

But either way, it seemed to be the beginning of the end.

* * *

Entering the odd cavern was like breaking into an alternate world that was beyond reality's jurisdiction. The darkness that pervaded the cave was like a voluminous ebony cloak, chasing away any light that dared to try to shine through.

With every step, the shade of darkness seemed to cover the cavern louder and louder. A deep sense of reluctance flooded her body and she found herself gazing back to the entrance of the cave, looking longingly out into the storm. Arista's pace slackened as she forced herself to continue on.

The pathway was beginning to spiral downwards, a chill wind blowing from some unseen crack in the cavern's walls. She continued her descent, curious to see the bottom.

Arista didn't notice the approaching body, until it was almost upon her. Forced to think upon her feet, Arista turned abruptly. The sudden twisting movement on her right leg had proved too fast, too harsh, for her leg, and within the first sharp wrenching movement, she fell down.

The creature's face looked down at her, with pure, untainted innocent, like a starving child. Arista and the being made sudden eye contact. It's eyes brightened up considerably at the connection.

"Spirit, spirit, are you lost, little spirit?" It was a feminine voice, as sweet and pure as honey. A sweet fragrance reminiscent of wildflowers seemed to fill the air at her words as she twirled around. Arista shook her head, trying to ward off the feelings of unwariness and relaxation that were suddenly coming upon her.

"A lost spirit must learn to be patient!" she laughed, her body quaking with unsuppressed mirth. She took a step forwards, hands clasped behind her back. "Poor Spirit, all lost and all alone."

Despite the newfound feeling of security, Arista rose and slowly began backing up, hobbling towards the other end of the cave. She mimicked her moments, taking one leisurely step at a time. Her gaze was sympathetic, accepting.

_Like an angel,_ something in Arista's mind seemed to say, the flowery scent filling her mouth and nostrils. Her muscles were fast becoming liquid; his mind relaxed; and her fears and worries were gushing out from her body in great waves. She stumbled in her backwards progress, leaning against the wall for support.

"Down, down, down. All-l-l-l the way down. Deep down in Dantanu's belly, all alone. You went back to the beginning." The being noticed her perplexed expression. Her grin became wider. Her angelic appearance was beginning to look far more sinister. "Dead."

Arista's eyes shown with a sudden understanding. Rage filled her, one single thought overpowering all: she _had _to be wrong. _"Liar!"_

The being giggled, shaking her head. "Poor Spirit." Her glance became thoughtful, as if recalling some fond memory.

With that, visions of the dead bodies began to surface once more, sounds fading, not even an echo heard. An odd numbness was coming over her body, and she suddenly felt cold. Terribly cold, but she could do nothing. Her thoughts were jumbled, and she felt weak. She couldn't tell if she was collapsing, or unconscious, or dying, but she felt...strangely pleasant. One thought seemed to echo through her mind...

_Seek the truth_

_Behold the truth_

_Live the truth_

_Make your decisions accordingly..._

* * *

The world seemed distant, faint. It was a darkened forest, with long char-black branches stretching out, flickering red orbs at the ends of each, bloated like over-ripened fruits. She felt like she was looking down at the world, and attempted to move down, instead of being up where she was.

"_That Spirit seems to like you..." _a voice whispered coolly.

'Good for me,' Arista thought. 'I'm not talking with any spirits.'

It took her a while to realize she wasn't moving at all.

"_If you bond with it...something wonderful may happen."_

She found she didn't have a voice. If she did, she'd say "I ain't bonding with a spirit!"

But who was speaking? She looked down to her side. A man stood there, dressed in torn, beaten armor, singed clothes. She couldn't imagine a girly voice coming from him.

Suddenly, he held out his hands, like he was ready to accept a gift. Blisters and scrapes scarred his hands and arms, wounds from past battles. Suddenly, pink petals began flowing around his body, as her vision began to magnify.

Bonding?

A flash of light emitted from her vision, and she felt like she was finally in a body. Thank goodness. She prepared to stretch, before her head suddenly moved.

"This is what you call a spirit? It feels weird..." he said, looking around.

"Why don't you tell it your name?"

He paused, looking down. How would he say it? Could he just say it aloud or could he think it?

'H-hello,'he thought. 'I'm Kalas. What's your name?' He felt embarrassed.

'_My name?'_ Arista said, confused. She paused. _'I'm not telling my name to some stranger I'll never meet again. Now if you'll just get me out of this place...'_

'It'd be nice if you said your name to someone you're going to spend a while with,' Kalas chuckled, grinning.

'_A while? How long is a while? Anyway, call me Bob. And if you do, you get your throat slit by yours truly.'_

'What do I call you without getting my throat slitted?'

'_Quit being psychic on me! Start moving your mouth and stop doing...doing...whatever you're doing!'_

"You are a spirit," the feminine voice said casually. "You are to protect him and guide him."

'_Combat?' Arista said after a long pause. 'Let me out. I can't do a pull up, I can't sit and reach, I can't lift weights, and I'm scrawny. How I am supposed to help you fight? I can't, so let me out!'_

'Just tell me your name,' Kalas pressed.

'_Arista, and I'm not helping you fight.'_

'Relax...you don't have to use a sword. You just have to...'

'_What? What?'_

Suddenly, more images began swirling into her mind, against their will. They were fragmented, only small sections of events...

"Kalas, help me!"

Her vision was washed with crackling and howling of gluttonous flames, heat filling the entire space. There was a small figure in the smoke and fire...

"Hey, One Wing," a sarcastic voice chuckled as the flames suddenly died away. A person, walking up to a blue-haired child, kicked him in the side...

Suddenly, darkness consumed her thoughts, a pleasant silence reigning in the world. It seemed to finally enfold her, like a cocoon, safe, warm, comfortable. She felt secure at last...

"Come, free us...from a thousand years of darkness..."

A voice echoed into the silence, all around her, penetrating the darkness like a slow, inexorable trickle of water, seeping into her mind.

"Beautiful white wings for you..."

She was incapable of blocking out the voice. It was like a leash, her guide, the hand that fed her. The voice went on.

"For the world...death...and destruction..."

The voice fell silent, and she felt content, the voice embedded in the subconscious of her mind. She opened her eyes, and saw the wavering, rippling image of an endless void of dark, morbid water. It surely seemed colder than her roost, but...this voice...

A change. Pulse quickened, breathing came faster. A deep voice rumbled, garbled, like they were speaking underwater. Kalas stirred, stretching out slightly, and he yawned.

"Ugh..."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One:

_He was grasping her throat roughly with his hand, and told her the first step to eternal life was that you have to die. He ran his thumb over her jugular vein, quietly murmuring, "Honestly. You won't die, Arista." _

His eyes, insane with power and rage, were inches away from hers, and for some odd reason she kept catching herself absorbed into their gaze, and every time she did she instantly pulled away, glancing down at the panicked streets far, far below her.

_His eyes were black, the deathly black of death—the kind of death in blizzards where you'd find birds frozen to death, not even getting the chance to fly off their perches. Meanwhile, the lonely bag of Magnus, that tattered old sack, laid there at his feet, lumpy and worn. _

They were on top of the building, his arm gripping hers, the sound of glass shattering left and right. They were on the tallest building in the world. Of course, the rest of the world was probably gone by now.

Everything was burning down.

_Everything…was dying.  
__  
One hundred and ninety-five stories up, she looked over the edge of the roof at the streets below, crazily jammed with people, animals, monsters, everyone and everything, engulfed in chaotic panic. Thick black smoke thundered down the crammed streets, casting the city in a sooty, choking haze. The sky was filled with fire, starkly illuminating the ruined city, meteors licking down, erupting into flames that dance upon the hot wind.  
_

_It was all his fault. _

The window right below them blew apart into tiny shards. More and more windows explode, and the blackened skeletal remains of a three-eyed demon emerged, clattering and groaning. Waving its morning star, it broke its way out. It looked down at the street and leapt down, disappearing into the panicked crowd below. Somewhere in the one hundred and ninety-five stories below their feet, the demons were running wild, destroying every scrap of life and history. At first, they were only little animals that would charge in a mad frenzy into a city, but now that was over. That time was merely child's play, for now the Soul-Scrapers had arrived.

_And it was all his fault._

_**His** fault. _

The clock was ticking. Seven minutes until devastation.

Another window blew up, and glass fell out, sparkling and spinning, and then a large Ceberus-like demon, in the late stages of decay, swelled out from the jagged hole, the walls snapping and tearing as they snagged upon its three heads. Its eyes were empty black holes; its black fur reduced to mere ribbons. The cursed beast gave a low croon as it tumbled wildly into the raw red sky, bare ribcage gleaming in the bloody light as it plunged down below.

The castle they were standing on wasn't going to be there for long.

_Six minutes._

_Directly above them, amid the howling fires, crowds of humans and invading demons, she saw a spinning vortex in the sky, a whirling vortex of heat pressing down on them, engulfing the entire sky. The air all around them was shimmering and distorted with furnace heat. The vortex was a gaping maw of fire ready to swallow them all. She could almost see some kind of face in it... _

Five minutes.

Arista was at the edge of the roof, his fingers tightening around her throat and she was wondering how painful the end of the world was about to be. They were watching as Diadem— the last refuge of mankind— burned to the ground.

"You won't really die, Arista. Your **pneuma** leave your **soma** and your **saryx** may decay, but if you do as I say, you'll live, as good as new. If you do as I say, YOU WON'T DIE. You hear me? Do you hear me, Arista?"

They watched as the Soul-Scrapers spilled out into the crowded streets. The nations of the Skies were giving up a good fight, but even with Alfard on their side, it just wasn't enough. Once upon a time, Alfard reigned supreme as the pinnacle of mankind, but now, they fled, Soul-Scrapers engulfing them as humanity's legacy burned down all around them. History was dying, dying right before their very eyes. Distant explosions echoed as dark, winged shapes flickered across the belly of the clouds. She recognized them…

"This is my world now, my fucked-up hell," he said softly, "and the Ancients have given up on the Winged Ones. The Wizards of Old…all safe while they watch you all die. They gave us the Heaven's Sword in return for their safety. The stars have fallen and Heaven's cowering at us. History's being torn up as we know it. We're in Eternity's Prison, all caged up, dead, dead, DEAD! The Soul-Scrapers are destroying Dantanu's children and their world right before your eyes. You've all lost, Arista! Game over! But…you can be salvaged. You can save yourself and your friends! Just give me Dantanu's blood. **Give me the Earth Sphere right now**, and I'll give you salvation." His voice is a gentle, hoarse whisper.

"_I told you…I told you…I told you I have no damn idea what you're talking about!"_

_  
Four minutes. _

Up on top of the castle, as the howling Soul-Scrapers run amok through the streets and broken glass rains down on the crowd and fire funnels up out the skeletons of ruined skyscrapers, she knew—with a deep pain in her heart heart—this madness, this hell, the Soul-Scrapers, the burning sky was all about five Magnus.

_Five shining Magnus. _

Three minutes.

All of humanity was about to die out. For good.

All over five Magnus.

_And it was all his fault.  
__  
Two minutes. _

The vortex grew into a massive sphere of thunderous raw heat, descending with slow, terrifying majesty. As it drew closer, everything shook and wavered, becoming colorless and semi-transparent….shuddering and warping and breaking up into molten white-hot heat as the roaring inferno gradually engulfed everything in searing white infinity. What was inside of it began growing out of it, letting out a deep bellow as the figure stepped out of the sphere.

One minute

shuffle

Light filtered into the room, easily flowing through the white curtains, shadows dancing across the room. The windows were open, and the smell of freshly picked mountain apples wafted through with the wind, along with the chirping of the morning birds. It was a pleasant autumn day, although the current inhabitant in the room didn't seem to notice.

He was lying on one bed in a row of several, collapsed on the bed, blankets pulled around his body. He certainly didn't seem willing to wake up. However, the sunshine seemed bent on making his morning an uncomfortable one.

Bouncing off the wooden walls, it began traveling on the floors, creeping up a two-legged stool, leaning against the bed. It seemed to check over the room, making sure everything was in place. Complicated medical charts hung on the wall, edges fraying and parts unhooked. Piles and piles of books were stacked up, some leaning against walls. A messy desk with papers strewn about stood in the corner, the stool pushed aside. Once everything was surveyed, the light seemed to go back to its duty: disrupting sleep.

It flittered over his eyes, and he stirred ever so slightly, but rolled away in irritation. He had slept like a log, his sleep dreamless. The light was persistent, and kept crawling over the bed, and eventually he gave up with a groan, wrapping a pillow around his head.

He pressed a hand against his head, slightly combing his dark blue hair, his eyes slowly opening. There was an odd niggling sensation in the back of his head, and he shook it off, concentrating, clearing his mind for the day ahead.

He twisted around in the bed, his feet dangling over the edge. He looked around suspiciously, frowning.

"Where am I?" he said with a groan, rubbing his eyes.

"Ah, you're finally awake," a man said, walking through the doorway. "How do you feel?"

He was a tall, broad-browed man, wearing simple white clothes and spectacles. He seemed to be a gentle old man, with few wrinkles and grey hair, with a small gray goatee. He carried a small set of charts in his hand, and seemed to be finishing up scribbling something on them.

"Fine, I guess," he said with a stretch. He looked at his arms, scratches, nicks and bruises all over the unprotected areas. His leather chestplate still seemed in good shape, and his clothes weren't too badly torn. "Where am I, anyway? And who're you?"

"I am Doctor Larikush," the man said, removing his spectacles. "You are in Cebalrai Village. They found you lying unconscious in the forest."

"Oh yeah…" he groaned, cradling his head in his hands. "I remember now! I was attacked by those rock cats! How stupid of me…"

"It's a good thing they were only rock cats," sighed Larikush. "They are only herbivores, after all. If it were the Unuks, you might not have made it," he said, furrowing his eyebrows, thinking of something. "Although…it's awfully strange to hear of them attacking humans. Normally, they'll just ignore them, but lately, for some reason, the animals have become more and more aggressive." With that, he turned his head to Kalas. "I'd advise you to stay away from those woods for a while."

"Fine, fine," he shrugged.

"By the way, what's your name? I don't remember you around these parts…" Larikush said, placing his charts on the broken stool.

"My name's Kalas," he said. "I'm new around here…which is why I got lost, I guess."

Larikush held out his hand. "Welcome to Cebalrai Village, Kalas. You're welcome to stay here for as long as you'd like, although we are only a farming village on the outskirts of Pherkad, so there isn't much here. You might want to be careful, though. You took quite a blow to the head, so I was worried you might have amnesia…but for now, you seem to be fine."

He was prepared to walk away, but then turned around. "By the way…I wrapped up your winglet over there, on the windowsill," he said, glancing at the former carpet that was now wrapped around the winglet. "Quite an unusual design for a winglet, I must say...not like the Alfard Empire's at all."

"Oh, that…my grandfather, Georg made it," Kalas said, still seated on the bed. "It was custom-built, too. He was…an excellent engineer, to say the least."

"His name was Georg, huh?" Larikush asked thoughtfully. "How is he doing?"

"He died, two years ago," Kalas murmured, obviously uncomfortable.

"Oh, I'm…sorry to hear about that," he said, frowning.

"It's all right. Thanks for the help, doc," Kalas said, getting up.

"I'm not the one you should be thanking," Larikush smiled. "Meemai was the one who found you lying in the woods."

"Hm…Meemai, is it? I'll go thank them. Thanks again, doc."

"I'll see you around," Larikush said, walking to his desk.

Kalas walked over to the windowsill, and peered out. Multiple colors of autumn leaves decorated the trees, brightening the area with red, orange and dark yellow leaves. He picked up his winglet, removing it from its package.

He ran his finger over the silver edges of it, making sure it wasn't badly damaged. He wasn't very good at repairing it, and to his relief, it didn't need any. He pulled out the leather strap from it, and wove his arm through it. As soon as the winglet got on his shoulder, several ends stabbed into his shoulder, securing it in place. Wincing, Kalas flexed it, before tightening the strap over his chest.

"Well, I guess that's that," Kalas said, folding his wing back. He tucked the cape into his chestplate, and turned back. "I'd better get going. Thanks for the cape."

Larikush glanced at Kalas's outfit. "Excuse me, Kalas, but that's not a—"

He was suddenly interrupted when Kalas tripped over the stool by his bed, papers flying everywhere, some sliding out the doorway.

"Sorry about that!" Kalas said sheepishly, heading outside.

Larikush sighed and went to pick up the papers. "Strange," he muttered to himself. "I never thought of it as a cape…

Kalas stepped outside, accidentally scaring a few birds out of a tree by the house. Fantail ducks gathered around his feet, quacking away, looking up at him and pecking at his feet until a girl herded them away. Pows chewed grass and cud from behind fences, some being milked, and Prancers strutted around the fields. It was a nice, peaceful day.

Except…

'_Rock cats, Kalas? Of all things, you got beaten up by a bunch of rock cats?'_

Kalas groaned, lowering his head. 'Not you again…'

'_You got beaten up by grass-eating cats? What could you possibly do to intimidate rock cats? That's just sad.'_

'Just be quiet, Aris—'

'_You had your time to talk to some boring old doctor, I have time to talk too! Like I was saying, rock cats, Kalas? Rock cats? I now officially dub you the Rock Cat Loser.'_

Arista. Unfortunately, she was his guardian spirit.

If all guardian spirits were like her, he felt sorry for anyone who had a guardian spirit. He didn't see all the fuss about arguing mentally day and night, getting taunted, mentally poked, thrashed in combat and all around abused by someone he couldn't even see.

Although she did probably have her good points…

Nah.

"Hey!"

His thoughts were interrupted by a boy's voice calling out to him, just around the corner.

"You're the one Meemai saved, right?" a young kid asked, dressed in the play clothes a lot of the boys in Cebalrai seemed to wear, with scuffs and cuts on his elbows and knees. "Glad to see you're up and walking around!"

'_Yes, this loser is the one that Meemai had to shamefully rescue from a bunch of grass-eating cats, unfortunately. Where is Meemai, anyway?'_

"Yeah, it's good to be up again," Kalas said. "Where's Meemai?"

"Right here," the boy said, a small green and blue scaled creature bounced up, waving its fins, squeaking at Kalas.

"Wow! Is this him…uh, her…it?...Meemai?" Kalas said, startled. He was expecting some warrior, or mercenary, or something besides a small, bouncing greythorne, of all things.

'_Oh…my…god. Kalas, it's a fish! Kill it!'_

'Why would I kill the one that saved my life?'

'_Just kill it Kalas! Make it go away, and don't let it touch me!'_

'Arista, you can't be touched!'

'_Well, you can! That's essentially touching me! Kill it!'_

Kalas rolled his eyes, and knelt down by Meemai, looking over it curiously. "Hard to believe you saved my life…thanks."

"He's way smarter than all those drunks that you see around at night," the boy said, Meemai jumping back to him. "And he's really cool, too."

Meemai suddenly shrank down to palm-size, and jumped onto the boy's shoulder, squeaking happily. "Oh yeah," he added. "The mayor wanted to see you or something."

Kalas groaned and walked to what seemed to be the mayor's house.

Stepping inside, the mayor sat at the head of a small table, drinking something. The heat of the fire in the fireplace filled the room, and lit up the mayor's face as he looked up at Kalas.

"Ah, you've arrived," the mayor smiled. "Good, good. Sit down. How are you feeling?"

Kalas did so, leaning back in the chair. "A lot better, thanks."

"You're welcome to stay in this village for as long as you'd like," the mayor said behind a bushy grey moustache that moved up and down as he talked. "However, I'd advise you to not go near those woods again. There are meddlers from Alfard in those woods…setting out Sabre Dragons in the woods. Even the animals are acting peculiar! Not only that, an ancient beast lies in that forest, and should not be awakened! Do you hear me, young man? Don't go near that forest if you value your life, and the sake of this village!"

Kalas stared at him, an eyebrow raised. It wasn't like he was going to destroy the village on purpose or anything…

"Yes, sir," Kalas shrugged.

"Good. Enjoy your time here. Hopefully your wounds taught you a lesson…"

Kalas walked out. 'Weird.'

'_You said it. Let's set a rock cat on him.'_

Kalas smiled to himself, adjusting his winglet.

He passed by a field where a girl seemed to be tending to the pows, if tending meant watching everything else but the pows. She looked up at Kalas, who tucked his winglet back behind his cape. "Hey, mister!" the little girl cried out, running up to the fence. "Is that a winglet on your back?"

"Yeah, why?" Kalas said, glancing beside him.

"Wow!" she said, following him along the fence. "The empire has a lot of winglets, but you don't really see any down in these parts…but it's a little weird looking."

"It's a custom winglet," Kalas explained. "My grandfather made it for me."

"Double-wow!" she exclaimed. She looked over Kalas. "Why do you only have one on?"

"I only need one," Kalas said after a pause, obviously touchy about the subject.

The girl seemed to flinch slightly. "Oh…sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it. They work, and together, they take me wherever I need to go."

"That's nice! And a custom winglet…your grandpa must have been pretty cool!"

"Yeah, you could almost say he was a magician," Kalas grinned. "The way he worked with machines like that…" He paused, thinking for a moment. "But I didn't know they were so rare down here…Doctor Larikush asked me about it, too…"

"Larikush? He's a doctor…I didn't know he liked machines," the girl said, looking behind her. "Ah! I have to go!" Kalas looked back, and saw several of the pows starting to step over the fence. Shaking his head, he walked away randomly, not caring where he was about to end up.

"Yar, 'allo there, brother of another mother!"

Kalas looked up with a jolt of shock, as someone seemed to appear out of nowhere, a person, onto a roof of a house. The being was sitting there, draped in red and blue robes and cloaks, arms crossed and staring at Kalas with a maniac's grin. Oddly, he had a stone embedded in his forehead.

"O frabjous day, calooh and callay, oh my, oh my, oh my! Oh my, my fellow man, is it not a wonderful day to be alive?" he continued, as his perpetually toothy grin seemed to almost split his face in half. "You were the unconscious one, were you not? You are the Kalas, as I presume? Dearie me! Dearie me! Oh my, oh my, _oh my_! Ah my goodness and calooh and callay! So you were the unconscious one? Alas! Alas! Sorrow and despair! Sorrow and despair!"

Kalas sat in a silent, stupid astonishment, staring at the man. The man suddenly stood up, and spun once, twice, thrice, before amazingly doing a triple backflip off the roof, landing with perfect grace.

"Uh…yeah, I'm Kalas. Why?"

The man grinned, before twirling again. When he stopped, he abruptly punched himself in the back of his head. With a squelching, popping noise, the stone popped out of his forehead and landed in his open palm. He began polishing the stone, delicate pinpricks of light sparkling in places where the sun struck it. Kalas stood there, trying to say something, but found that nothing was coming out.

The man held up the stone to the sun, examining it fussily, poking some edges and polishing at others. When he was convinced it was clean enough, he placed it back into his forehead, twisting it in with squeaks and squeals until it wouldn't turn anymore. Satisfied, he did another twirl.

"Ah, that hit the spot! Yis, yis, yis! Cheshire Chalagrin de Vangarent D'Aguyongyo de Mortificus at your service! For short, Cheshire is the name!"

"Wh-what are you, Cheshire?" Kalas asked, not quite sure what to make of all this.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my! I am an animated doll! Quite a marvel!"

"Erm…okay. What do you want?"

"Ohh, yis, yis! To tell you, I am here to say hello!"

"Okay…why?"

"'Tis the polite practice, calooh and callay! But I am also here for a friend! I wish to ask if you've seen someone familiar to me!"

"All right, all right, who?" Kalas said impatiently.

"A girl! Have you possibly ever even seen one around here?"

"Then I can't help you there. I've seen plenty of girls."

"Oh my, oh my, oh my! Alas! Alas! Sorrow and despair! Despair and disrepair! Unfortunate, yes, no?" Without waiting for an answer, Cheshire leapt away, before suddenly turning back to Kalas. "I'm off to where my little friend is! It'll be a grand adventure, yis, yis! We'll meet again, was unconscious one!"

Kalas shook his head. So much was happening all at once…he needed a rest.

'_Weird.'_

'Look who's talking.'

'_Hey!'_

'He was almost as insane as you were, at the very least.'

'_Okay, I'll give you insane, but I am definitely not in the slightest weird!'_

Kalas groaned aloud, getting strange looks from passerbys. 'Yeah, right.'

'_I'm glad to see you admit the truth!'_

'You know, someday I'm going to kill you.'

'_If you can't beat a Rock Cat, you can't beat a spirit you can't ever see!'_

'Will you stop it?'

'_For now, I guess.'_

Although Arista was indeed annoying, she knew when to shut up. Good.

Kalas groaned, sitting down by the gate of the village, underneath the shade of a tree. Children were still running about, some playing with Meemai, others playing games like Tag.

Let's see…he had been assaulted by monsters, rescued by a greythorne of all things, taken to Larikush, and had met one of the strangest people, possibly in the world. What else would happen?

He looked around the village and was unsurprised that nothing was happening. He wondered if someday, he might just settle down and live in a town like this. Maybe not this exact town, but one where he could disappear and make his life anew.

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed two soldiers escorting a girl out of the village. What had caught his eyes were the unusually bright colors they wore, contrasting with the darker tones of Cebalrai.

The two soldiers, one in blue and the other in orange went ahead of the girl, who was dressed in pink. Getting a better look at her, Kalas found her outfit to be awkward in the weather of Cebalrai. She wore a jacket, a sweater, everything you'd see in winter, but not autumn. He was wondering how hot she must have felt in all those clothes when she suddenly broke the silence.

"Are you a traveler, too?"

Kalas looked up at her golden eyes. Blonde hair curved around her neck, a delicate smile on her pale face.

'_She looks like one of those girls who would murder you if you insult her outfit.'_

Kalas nearly snorted aloud, but quickly caught himself, stammering. "Uh…uh….yeah…Yeah, I guess you could say that."

The girl stared at him curiously. Damn, did he even know her?

The girl seemed to begin to say something, but the soldiers had returned, motioning to her.

"I have to go…" she said. She turned and approached Meemai and the boy Kalas had met before. She patted Meemai's head and ruffled the boy's hair playfully. "Bye Meemai…see you, little guy!"

She quickly ran back to her escorts and trotted off with them, a hand on one of their arms.

"Hey! I have a name, you know!" the boy shouted, peeved. "C-E-D-R! Cedr!"

Knowing the girl was out of earshot, he groaned and turned back to Meemai. "They're crazy, right Meemai? They just want to visit some old ruins in Moonguile Forest…better hope the 'curse' doesn't get to them!" he chuckled. "We better hope they don't get hurt like _**some**one…_"

"Yeah, really," Kalas muttered, rolling his eyes.

'_The curse of the rock cats! The horror!'_

'But cursed ruins? Those people must have come a long way just to see a bunch of rocks…there must be something valuable there! We can run ahead of them, take any valuables, and go. Sound good to you?'

'_But Rock Cat Loser! There are deadly rock cats after your blood! Are you sure you can survive?'_

'Trust me, I'm not going to get caught off-guard this time. There's nothing to worry about…besides, if there's something good, we get rich in the process. Let's go…'

_shuffle_

'_Not very exciting, eh?'_

Kalas was sitting by the river, sharpening his sword. Walking through the forest was a monotonous task, and the monsters weren't so exciting to fight.

There wasn't much light when you were in the forest, so Kalas decided to sit out in the middle of the forest, where the trees became thinner in population.

Were there even ruins in Moonguile Forest? There had better be, Kalas didn't want to go through all this for nothing.

Time to get going…he got up and returned the sword to its Magnus form, and reentered the dark woods.

"Something exciting had better be in these stupid woods…"

_**Krrrr…RAAAAGH!**_

"Just my luck…"

Rushing into the forest, he found a large turtle-like creature looming before the pink-dressed girl from the village. It was a Sabre dragon, a creature native to Alfard. It stared down at the girl, clicking its fangs thoughtfully.

'Where are her escorts?' Kalas thought to himself as he looked behind the girl. He grimaced when he saw the two bloody corpses of the knights, smalls holes stabbed through their bodies.

'_Does that answer your question?'_

Kalas looked up at the scene before him. A girl in danger and a turtle dragon ready to pick her off. Only one thing to do.

Kalas charged.

_shuffle_

"Leon…" the girl said, pretty shaken up, looking over the bodies. "Gram…"

Kalas was completely ignorant. He merely knelt by the Sabre Dragon corpse, grinning from ear to ear as he carved off its fangs. "They're still in good shape…this'll fetch me a bundle!"

With a grin still on his face, he waltzed over to Gram and Leon's corpses and knelt by them, swiping their decks, looking through them casually.

"H-hey! Wh-what are you doing?" the girl stammered, startled.

"Taking their Magnus," Kalas shrugged. "Oh, this one looks good…"

"Stop it! You're disrespecting the dead!"

"I don't see them complaining. Do you?" Kalas said, looking over their body for any valuables. "Besides, I'm not going to leave them lying around naked."

'_That makes for disturbing images, Kalas.'_

Kalas looked at the necklace and bracelet in his hands, and tossed them behind his head. "Here, catch."

The girl snagged them out of the air, looking over them. "Gram's pendant…Leon's bracelet…" she whispered. She looked back up at Kalas. "You want me to return them to their families…so they can remember? You know…maybe I was wrong about you…maybe…maybe I—"

"Woah, woah, what're you talking about? You did half of the fighting, so that's your share of the loot."

"W-what? I'm not going to accept stolen goods from my friends!"

"Take it or leave it," Kalas said. "I'm going in deeper."

He prepared to leave, before the girl suddenly interrupted.

"Wait a minute…you're from Mira…aren't you?"

Kalas froze. "Yeah…how'd you know?"

"You have a guardian spirit with you…I felt their presence in battle. Only people from Mira can summon their presence into this world."

'_Ooh, yay, I'm getting famous! Tell her about my good side!'_

"Yeah, yeah, when you summon a guardian spirit, you supposedly gain knowledge and powers, right? Whoever made that up should get slapped in the face."

'_HEY!'_

"I always thought it was just a legend…" the girl said thoughtfully.

"I wouldn't blame those who thought I was just insane or something. This spirit's driving me nuts."

'_It's because I care about you, buddy old pal,' _Arista muttered sarcastically.

"Was that her?" the girl said. "I felt a faint voice in my head…"

"You heard her?"

'_Exactly, Kalas! Wooh, I can start a fanclub!'_

"So, what's your name?" the girl asked.

'_Holden Caufield.'_

"Okay, Holden—"

'_Hey! I didn't mean it! It's actually Joe—'_

"It's Arista, and you will not start a fanclub."

The girl giggled. "I'm glad you came when you did. I'm Xelha, and I'm sorry about that outburst I had earlier…"

"Wait, wait, wait. I wanna clear this up with you—Sabre dragon fangs will fetch me a juicy sum. I'm not going to be prince charming and save you, and I had no intentions of doing so. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

There came a loud rumbling noise from deep within the forest, and Kalas quickly drew his sword, looking around nervously.

"Maybe we should travel together," Xelha suggested.

"Whatever," Kalas said, rolling his eyes. "Fine by me. Let's go."

"Wait…just one thing…" Xelha said, walking back to the soldiers. She clasped her hands together and closed her eyes, whispering to herself.

_Cast light upon the darkened Earth_

_Save those lost in despair_

_O mighty Ocean…_

_guide us as we journey though the darkest pit of night_

The two bodies suddenly began fading away, their Magnus-essence fading away.

Kalas raised an eyebrow. "What was _that_?"

"Nothing, nothing," Xelha assured. "We should get going."

_shuffle_

Once upon a time, this was a holy place where the ancient Pious paid tribute to the Stars. Even after centuries, the Cathedral of Astrum had not fallen from its grace. Languid beams of pale golden sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows in small spears of light and soaked the wood of the pews in light, casting the glorious house of holy prayer in light. The planks of wood set into the floor, even after all these years had not been stained with grime or even had rotted away. They sat in the sunlight like new, with not even a speck of dust on them. Stained glass windows lined the upper arches of the vaulted, once-majestic roof, shimmering slightly in the subtly shifting dance of shadows and light. The beautiful stained-glass windows had miraculously retained their natural beauty despite the ravages of Time's jealous hand.

Within the house of worship, a wolf-like creature was seated upon the altar, overseeing the rows upon rows of pews silently arranged before him. His dark emerald fur shone with an eerie light, his eyes scanning ahead of him coldly, his long ears folded back. Two white, feathery wings sprouted from his back, making him seem bigger than he really was. His paws and two tails were covered in elegant runic markings, his tails thumping impatiently.

The creature softly hissed under his breath as he gazed down the aisle and through the doors of the cathedral, overseeing his silent audience.

Covering every pew, every column, every rafter, every windowpane, even spilling out onto the ground and trees outside were roosting ravens. It was as if this holy house had sprouted black feathers. There was an eerie curiosity in their eyes.

And they were everywhere.

The creature could sense their cold indifference. His murky green eyes cast downwards; and he began to speak. His voice was sonorous and rich, elegant yet menacing, like blood and honey.

**_"Dantanu has accersitus totus suus liberi praeeo. Permissum nos audio puteus."_**

The restless shifting of the birds stopped. All eyes were upon him.

"**_Vos have pervasor Dantanu's domus per vestri presentia. Sin est coming , quod is must operor suus officium ut somes suscipio ut orior oriri ortus in acies."_**

The whole world seemed to go still, to listen.

**_"Licentia is sanctus humus. Nunc."_**

The creature stopped and gazed about impatiently.

"**_NUNC!"_**

A chill wind began to blow—only it was no wind; it was the ruffling of millions of feathers.

The rustle of the ravens rose to a roar.

The skies were black with whirling, screeching, cawing ravens. The Cathedral still echoed with the thunder of their wingbeats.

_shuffle_

"Is this it?" Kalas asked, looking down at the lake before them.

"Yes…this should be the Moonguile ruins…" Xelha said, approaching it.

Kalas looked around. "I don't see anything valuable around here. Where's the goods?"

"Is money all that matters to you?"

"Maybe. So?"

Xelha sighed. "Nothing, nothing…"

Kalas had to admit it was a nice place. A small spring quietly trickling, surrounded by not too many trees…it was the kind of place you'd like to just sit there and not be bothered by anyone. You could just sit around and think to yourself. However, it was definitely not worth going through a forest and getting attacked by dragons.

"This should be it," Xelha said, standing before a small pillar.

"That's it?" Kalas snorted.

A light began shining from a necklace Xelha wore, blinding Kalas briefly. Xelha seemed to be perplexed for a moment, but the light suddenly ceased and the skies began to darken.

There was a faint, twisting shadow in the depths of the lake, and with a roar of water, the lake water began gushing out as the beast rose.

'_It's a seahorse!'_

It was anything but. A large sea serpent rose, looking rather moodily at the two before him. Large whiskers rattled impatiently as it glared at its surroundings.

"So, you've come at last, woe-laden child…" he boomed. "Have you arrived for Malpercio's gift? Then prepare yourself!"

'_We didn't even **say** anything yet!'_

It lunged at Kalas, who barely had time to dodge. He closed his eyes, drawing out his Wings of Heart. A grey falcon wing stretched out, as did his mechanical winglet, and he pulled out his sword and knife, ready to challenge the beast to a duel. "Come on!" he shouted up.

The serpent quickly came down at Kalas again, and he quickly blocked with his sword. It crumbled after the hit, yet another sword appeared in his hand.

"Fire burst!" Xelha yelled, before a flare of fire struck the serpent in the head, distracting it from its attack on Kalas. Kalas took advantage and swung his sword at the monster, cutting into its side. Xelha continued her barrage.

The monster leaned back, growling slightly before sinking into the water.

"Hah! Was that all? Loser! That was way too—"

"Kalas! Look out!" Xelha shouted, but her warning was a tad bit too late.

The serpent leapt into the air and slammed itself on Kalas in a massive bodyslam, slithering back slowly into the water. Kalas was lying there, flat on his face.

"I think my nose is broken…"

'_HAHAHA! Kalas, you can get beaten up by rock cats, dragged around by a girl, but you can get body-slammed by a SNAKE of all things? You aren't a Rock Cat Loser! You're a Rock-Cat-Snake-Body-Slammed loser! You got owned by a SNAKE!' _

The rest was distorted by Arista's laughter.

_shuffle_

"Well, that was exciting," Kalas groaned, resting his head in his palm.

He leaned on his sword, looking at the writhing, dying beast. Xelha was slightly shaken up, as she barely had time to dodge another massive snake-body-slam. She was exhausted, and called back in her shell-like wings of heart. She had done most of the work, no thanks to Kalas.

The water slowly dripped back into the small pond, the serpent still stretched out of the mouth of the pond. It swayed slightly, before collapsing onto the damp grass.

"The time has come," it hissed softly, murky eyes fading. "The gate to Ar is finally opening…behold the blessing of…Mal…percio…"

Slowly the body began to fade away, leaving behind a shining Magnus. Kalas stared down at it, curiously.

He wasn't sure if it was his head, but he could have sworn there was a red flicker in his mind…

"Now that that's done with, let's get back to…to…" he began, but stopped as he stared at the white light emitting from the Magnus.

"Kalas?" Xelha asked, but he ignored her. He involuntarily moved his hand to the Magnus, entranced by the blinding light. He picked up the card, staring into it.

There was a screech in his head, blasting his ears. Slowly, his grip tightened, his knuckles growing a pallid white, eyes contorting with pain.

The ground began to shake, like there was an earthquake, birds flying from the trees in panic. Golden flashes of light began shooting out of the spring and into the sky, but Kalas was oblivious to all.

He heard a faint voice, screaming "Kalas! Put it down!" He tried to recognize it, but the card was suddenly stolen from his hands and tossed onto the ground.

Kalas snapped back into reality, shaking his head. "Huh? What happened?"

"I don't know…" Xelha said.

A chilly wind began to pick up all around them, and a dark shadow loomed over them. Kalas looked up at the oddly-shaped shadow, trying to ignore the light of the Magnus.

Suddenly, a squad of soldiers surrounded them, guns loaded and pointed towards them. Kalas put his hand at his sword, but knew he was terribly outnumbered.

Someone had jumped from the shadow above, a man dressed in a black uniform. He wore dark armor all over his body, and wore a white cape. He wore the Imperial Crest on his chest. Cold, calculating dark brown eyes gazed over them.

Kalas looked at him, jaw dropped. "You!" he shouted.

The man spoke as if he hadn't heard Kalas. His voice was deep and booming, as he said "Girl, you will return what you have stolen." He grabbed Xelha's arms, dragging her struggling body away from Kalas.

"Let me go!" Xelha cried, trying to fight her way out of the man's grip.

"Get away from her—" Kalas began, waving his sword at the man, but one soldier quickly reacted and struck him in the head with the butt of his gun. Kalas dropped his sword with a cry of pain, and collapsed in a limp pile.

"Kalas!" Xelha cried, momentarily stopping her struggles.

The soldier stood over him. "Can't we just kill 'im now and get it over with?"

The man rolled his eyes, released Xelha and quickly backhanded the soldier's face face. "Silence, you dolt. If we kill him you'll be wanted for murder. We have to pull off this mission quickly and quietly, and things like murder will slow it down, and I won't have progress stopped for such a foolish reason. We weren't told to assassinate children, we came here for a far different purpose."

The soldier shrugged, retreating back. "Fine then. Lead the way."

The leader moved his head towards another soldier. "You, collect the Magnus," he said simply. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of his men roughly pushing the girl towards him. It was an understatement to say she was putting up a fight.

"Get off of me!" she screamed. The soldier had her arms behind her back and was pushing her slowly forward, but she dug her heels into the ground, kick the soldier, kick the air, anything to momentarily distract him and stop his progress.

She looked at the leader, and screamed to him. "You're not going to get away with this! You'll—"

The leader interrupted her with a slap to the side of her face. She stared at him in a long, hard silence for a moment, then continued on her rant.

"Throw her into the smallest cell we've got," he said with a smirk.

Meanwhile, Arista was pleasantly gabbing away to an unconscious Kalas.

'_Kalas, does it hurt to get hit in the back of the head with a gun? It sure looks like it, since you're on the ground and all. Kalas? Yoo-hoo, Kalas! Kalas? KA-LAS! Ka-laaassss…" _

_shuffle _

The creature had risen from the altar and was slowly descending down the steps, walking through the multiple colors of the filtered sunlight.

"_**Qua est ut puella ut vos postulo suus?"**_

He had just begun to step towards the first row of pews when the massive double doors of the cathedral exploded inwards.

A raging, whirling tornado of fire surged through, howling insanely as it expanded to fill the massive interior of the cathedral. The force of the explosion violently lifted the pews from the floor and flung them aside, up against the walls, the windows and walls rumbling violently.

The creature stood, watching this amazing, frightening sight with a calm expression, thoroughly unimpressed.

A blurred, indistinct shape materialized in the center of the whirling vortex of fire, eyes blazing white-hot with fury. The elegant figure took a step forward, heat rolling out from it in cloying waves. The temperature skyrocketed to unendurable levels. Ash and dust spun lazily in the air and slowly settled.

The heat suddenly vanished, revealing a small phoenix perched on one of the pews.

"_Quis iens in?" _the phoenix asked, cocking her head to one side.

"I could be asking the same," the creature placidly answered in perfectly pronounced, flawless English.

The phoenix fluttered down to the ground, shaking her head. "This is just…insane!"

"Agreed," the creature murmured gently, "but this is no longer in our hands. I am simply a messenger of Dantanu, nothing more. Destiny has been set in motion. Look at the roof."

The two gazed up at the roof. It was an empty black space, only a few flickering lights.

"The star map…shattered?" the phoenix whispered.

"Yes. Our own Father's blood…the stars. Yes, the white-winged darkness is coming. Humans were not meant to surpass the limits of their evolution. They've fought with and against each other…all over five end Magnus. They are not meant to have the privilege of beings gods…we have to hurry…"

He began strutting over to the doors, before suddenly turning around. "And I would recommend that before you head back out, tone down your magic a bit."

She quietly mimicked him, rolling her eyes. She leapt off the pew, and in a flash of fire, she had become a human.

"I don't understand why you enjoy being a human so much," he muttered, shaking his head.

She brushed back her dark red hair, ruffling his head. "I don't get why you like Latin so much. Now leave me alone."

"If you don't…" he began, but then he noticed she had disappeared into the sunlight. He groaned to himself, walking outside. He peered into the sky, ravens still flying out of sight.

Time was running out.

_shuffle_

It was waiting in the Darkness.

It existed as it had always done, entombed within its dream. It wasn't alive as the term is defined; it did not breathe, it certainly could not move and definitely could not reproduce itself.

How long it had remained in its current state? It couldn't tell, time had no meaning in this dimension, it was just sitting there, chained up, and all it had were memories that flickered, over and over again. It saw vague, blurry faces within these bubbles of thoughts but mostly recalled…sensations.

Elation. Suffering. Pain, always the pain. Awakening. Chaos. Then of course, the fracturing, the strange sense of being many things at once but none of them at the same time.

It had been a god of destruction, a cold, logical mind, a lover, a thinker, a murderer, a wanderer, but which one was it truly? It had forgotten its true identity over the aeon of agelessness, the steady drift of dispassionate time uncaring, just being chained in the darkness. The overriding thought and pattern that had governed this being's limited actions had been a need to escape this tomb, recapture its lost glory. It had waited patiently for the opportunity to arise, it had waited long, too long. And its time was coming.

It had never had much need of his only ability in this world, the power to detect the minds of others. Nothing would venture down to its resting place. But…_something_ had.

This mind that had entered had been unknowingly seeded with a desire that would become irresistible. Rather than indifference now, it had begun to feel anticipation. Though the time scale was as yet undetermined, the being was certain of eventual escape; it felt no pressure and could afford to wait a little longer for release. Everything was eventual and freedom was forthcoming. All it had to do now was wait.

A/N: The end of chapter 1. XD

1.) I know I did a mega-huge cop-out of both of the fights. So sue me.

2.) This came mega-late due to a huge power-surge that fried my computer's memory and deleted all my saved files.

So, I had to start over, and I copped out of the fights because I had spent too much time on them and I didn't even remember what happened in them. All I remember was a serpent body-slam, and the end. Sue me again. Hopefully the rest of the chapter made it up to you.

Much of this was going to be what Distorted Wings was going to be, since it got deep-fried, so you'll be seeing a ton of creative liberties on this fic. Hell, some of it could just be considered AU.

The reason why I used _shuffle_ to switch between sections...I dunno. Nothing else would work, and _shuffle _could refer to Magnus being shuffled. So there.

So anyway…commence the chapter-end dance!

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